An Untold Story
by verita dea
Summary: The Untold Story of Niamh and Colum.
1. Chapter 1

_There is no beginning or end to a story; but rather a great many chapers, each chapter being a life that coincides with many others, so the tale can never be heard in its entirety. There are many parts of the story that are unheard of, some are referenced to, but have never been told. This is my chapter._

* * *

There is a plant I like to call lymph frond; a beautiful emerald plant that feels like silk running over your skin. Try grasping it and it slips through your fingers like water. It grows by the little lake of water, high in the forest, and it is so difficult to cultivate that only those who know how to hold it are able to keep it. That's where it began for me, with the lymph frond. On a warm morning, when the sun cast dappled shadows onto the forest floor and the nature around me seemed so alive, I ventured to my favourite place by that lake, where everything is so quiet and serene but alive. I sat still as the water's surface, my eyes closed, sensing the subtle movements of the world around me. The crawling plants, the scuttling insects, the soft breeze flitting through the air like a gentle wind of change.

And there it was; a sudden ripple, disturbing the surface of the water. I opened my eyes and there was another ripple, this time it caused a little splash. I stood up quietly and looked beyond the trees to find a young man, perhaps a little older than I, leaning over the lake, snatching at the lymph fronds. His hair was soil brown, his eyes were a stormy grey, he wore an expression of utter determination and vexation that sat so ill on a face used to laughter and merriment. There was something that drew me to him instantly, that I could not help wanting to go nearer. So engrossed was he in his task, he did not notice as I slowly approached and knelt by his side.

"You cannot hold it unless you let it go," I said, gently opening his clutched fists so the fronds lay on his palms. "They rest on the open palm."

The boy's unseeing gaze fell on his hands, then he looked at me.

"Are you one of the Fair Folk?" he asked. I shook my head and smiled.

"No. Just an ordinary girl," I told him. "Though I've no doubt that they're watching us right this minute."

He nodded in agreement, the lymph frond falling from his grasp at his movement. I held my hands under his and caught it, then began to weave it into a glossy ring, slipping it onto his finger.

"There. Now you can't lose it." He clenched his fingers around the the grassy circlet and nodded.

"Thank you," he hesitantly smiled in return.

"Colum!"

The voice tore through the peacefulness, and the boy jerked to attention. There was the rustling of leaves, signalling that others were approaching. I stood from where I was kneeling and dusted the soil off my skirts.

"I better be going," I said, bobbing a little curtsey. But before I could turn, he grabbed my wrist.

"Wait," he stalled. "You've heard my name. I am Colum of Sevenwaters. What is yours?"

A son of the chieftain. I hadn't expected such an encounter. I withdrew my hand slowly.

"I am Niamh," I told him. "And I best be gone."

"Will I see you again?" there was a note of desperation in his voice. I hadn't found out why he seemed so sad. I realised I didn't like seeing that expression on his face.

"Tomorrow, perhaps." I replied, and was rewarded with the sweetness of his smile.


	2. Chapter 2

I waited by the lake, the next day, but Colum did not return. Nor the day after that, or the one following that. I spent a sennight in a reverie, wondering what had upset him so, wondering why I felt so drawn to him. Wondering why my gift had not warned me he was an heir to Sevenwaters. Hoping, inexplicably, that I'd meet him again.

So distracted was I that my father believed the Fair Folk had done away with my wits, until, eventually, I told him what had happened.

"If you'd spent more time at home instead of wandering around the forest like a wild thing, you'd have heard," he told me gruffly, but not unkindly. At my look of confusion, he softened. "The old chieftain of Sevenwaters passed. There's no heir but the lad, Colum. Can you fathom it? Six heirs, all born and dead before you yourself have passed. "

I felt the blood drain from my face, the briefest touch of a cold finger caressing my spine. The look on Colum's face as he tried to gather the lymph frond returned with painful clarity, and suddenly all the lines of worry etched on his features made sense. To lose his father, after losing six brothers. He was the seventh son, the one who had been blessed by the Fair Folk.

And now he was alone in the world.

"There now, what is it, Niamh?" my father's voice cut through my thoughts, wary and tentative. He knew when the sight came upon me, and feared my visions.

I shook my head, and smiled at him. "Nothing is wrong father. It's just... so terribly sad."

He grunted in reply. "Yes. But he'll be a strong leader, if he's anything like his father. He'll have to live up to it."

I said nothing more, but the next day, I returned to the lake, desperate to see him again. Sure that he would be there this time. And he was, sitting crossed legged, calmer than when I had first met him.

I hadn't made a sound, I had learned from childhood how to walk through the forest like silence itself, but he opened his eyes, the grey of a wistful, cloudy day, still unfocused from being roused out of his deep meditation, and the cloak of solemnity fell away as he smiled.

"Niamh," he breathed. "Is that really you? Where have you been?"

"Where I've always been." I sat by him, trailing my fingers in the water, a silver sigh rippling to the edges of the lake. He drew closer, one hand reaching out to tug one of my curls as he laughed. "I thought I might have dreamt you. It felt so surreal, seeing you here last time."

"The nemetons are not so very far away." I told him, "It's close enough that I can escape here for some time every morning." Glancing sidelong at him, I said, casually as I could. "I was rather wondering where you had been."

His mouth tightened, that shadow returning to his face. "Home. I've had to attend to affairs at home."

I wanted to curse my own insensitivity, trying not to stumble on my own words as I laid my hand on his. "I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you."

Whatever bitterness he felt about his circumstances, he did not take it out on me. Instead, he absently tightened his fingers around mine, ever so slightly, and smiled without any warmth. "You must think I am terribly irresponsible."

"Not at all," I replied quietly. "In fact, I think you're rather brave."

He laughed, though there was no mirth in it. "I am not brave. Far from it. I suppose - I thought - that maybe it wouldn't come to this. I had six elder brothers, all perished on the battlefield and now they're all expecting me to lead."

I said nothing, and when he continued, his voice shook. "It wasn't meant to be my burden. I cannot tell anyone how much I wish it wasn't me, because I have no choice. There is no one else now. I have to win back the islands. I swore an oath to my father on his deathbed, all the while wishing I were dead."

The bleakness of his tone frightened me, and I felt the strange swimming sensation of an unwanted premonition rising in my chest. But I didn't want to know it. I fought away the shadow tapping on my shoulder, and pressed a finger gently to his lips. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that again. Life is one of the most precious gifts in the world, to say something like that is to spit in the face of the goddess."

I felt his lips begin to move in protest beneath my finger, trying to utter some denial as he raised his hand to remove mine, but I spoke over him. "You will be a great man Colum, one day. All of this grief will only strengthen you, make you a wiser, better person. Don't let the bitterness take over your heart."

At that, he stopped, his arm dropped to his side. "You make it sound easy."

"Well, it won't be. I'm not going to lie about that. I do not know much about being a leader, but I know that it will be hard," I took his hand, noticing the lymph frond that still adorned his finger, and tried not to notice how my heart beat faster at its sight. "You came here to take your mind away from all of that. Tell me, what you would do if you were free?"

"Everything," he said without hesitation. "I would be a bard, a soldier, a thatcher," and then, with a pointed look at me, "perhaps a druid."

"It would be a wise calling," I nodded gravely, then smiled. "But somewhat dour, they'd never approve of your frequent disappearances."

"It wouldn't really be disappearing," he rejoined, "if you were with me."

His expression was so intent that I was not sure whether he was jesting or entirely serious. But there was the idle snap of a twig, and one of the novices appeared across the lake.

"Niamh!" It was Berach, a flush faced young boy. "They're asking for you back at the nemetons." His voice dropped a notch. "Cian is not best pleased."

I winced. Cian was a hard task master in the best of moods, I can only imagine the lecture I would get upon my return. Father would probably be vexed as well. Colum stood, and offered his hand to me, his head leaning down to whisper in my ear as I accepted.

"I'll see you here again, in two days?"

"You shall."


End file.
